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Birth of a Monster
Whenever the curtains parted, I could hear the children cheering, chanting my name: "Mis-ter Fun-time! Mis-ter Fun-time!" Yeah, that was me: Mr. Funtime. Their cheers were music to my ears. I would play with the kids all day, until night fell and the staff would shut me down, giving me rest until tomorrow. That was the routine. Day after day after freaking day. Until something happened that ruined everything. I felt my leg bump into something - probably a table, now that I think about it - and suddenly, I hear a loud crash and I'm staring at the floor. I felt the staff lift me up and throw me into a dark room, where I suddenly became detached; my limbs weren't attached to my body anymore. I was a scattered mess. But once the door closed, I used what strength I had left to put myself back together again. Or so I thought. Once I could stand again, I opened the door to find the diner closed. I felt strange, off-balanced, not like myself. I heard my voice, and it was gravelly and sinister. When I looked in a mirror, I didn't see me. I saw a monster. An orange monster, towering eight feet tall, with one green arm, one blue arm, and a third arm made of pure endoskeleton. The legs of the monster were nearly all endoskeleton, and the face was the most horrific of all. It was missing one of its animatronic eyes, leaving its endoskeleton eye to stare out. A good portion of the suit of its face was missing, leaving a lot of the endoskeleton skull showing. When it dawned on me that this monster was me, something snapped in my mind. From that point forth, I was no longer the children's entertainer Mr. Funtime. I was the unstoppable killing machine known as Scrappard. Enraged, I hunted down every member of the staff and killed them in the most gruesome ways possible. Slicing their neck open, tearing their skull apart, ripping out their spine and grinding it into dust... you name it, I did it. Yeah, I enjoyed it at the time, but looking back at it now, I can see what I've become. I not only looked like a monster, I behaved like one, too. They were acts that anyone could consider awful, twisted and cruel. And sometimes... I do, too. I know this wasn't how my life was supposed to be. I was supposed to be Mr. Funtime, the kind-hearted animatronic weasel that entertained the kids, not some... kind of... reincarnated animatronic hellspawn who went around killing humans! Sometimes, I wish that I could just jump off a building and end it all, but my instincts save me every time. Every TIME!!! I don't want this. I didn't want any of this. I just want to be me again. But then I remember that saying: "you can't go home again". Back then, I never knew what that meant. But I do now.